ArchivedLogs:Outside the Ring

Outside the Ring
Dramatis Personae Jack, Jax
In Absentia	2015-03-13 "I'm hoping that day happens sometime too." (Taking time out at fight night.)
Location <NYC> BoM Safehouse - Lower East Side
Tucked away off a little-used side street in the Lower East Side, sandwiched between a youth drop-in center and a taqueria, this narrow three-story townhouse has very little to catch the eye. Boarded-up windows, a door peeling its paint, shabby grubby brickface; from the outside it does not look like much. Inside someone has gone to great lengths to renovate the building into something more habitable. It isn't glamorous but it is comfortable, old furniture dragged in, the place generally swept clean. The first floor holds a large living room, a smaller dining room, a spacious kitchen, a half-bathroom. There are three bedrooms and a full bathroom on the second floor; the attic is just a large empty space crammed full of boxes with a window out to the large flat roof. The basement, much like the attic, consists of a lot of empty space. A bare concrete floor, no windows, occasional poles running up to the ceiling. A tiny half-bathroom down here, too. Not a whole lot else. Down in the basement, there's still sounds of fighting going on. Occasional cheering, whooping, gasping, punctuated by grunts and thuds and slaps, zap, fzzt, snap, crunch. Wet-patter. A sharper keening /yelp/. It'll be a while yet before fight club is truly done for the night. Up here, though, there's plenty of water, healthy snacks, places to rest and recuperate. Jax is in the kitchen stocking up on sugar. A lot of it. He's kind of a mess, barefoot and shirtles in black shorts, his brilliantly coloured tattoos mottled with bruising and a stippling of acid-spattered burn marks across the lean-hard muscles of his torso. At the moment he's pulled himself up into a seat on a counter, a bright (if lopsided) grin on his (split-lip) face, leaning in to murmur something quietly to a tall woman with enormous black-feathered wings in sports bra and track pants. She departs with a (gentle) pat to his bruisey shoulder, leaving him to gulp at a glass of water and strip the peel off a mandarin orange. He looks kind of triumphant when he gets it all off in one long unbroken strip, breaking the orange in half and breaking off a wedge to pop one into his mouth. Done working with one of the people on hand for medical things, the invisible mutant known as Jack shuffles his way into the kitchen. Of course at the moment he's just a pair of old and very beaten up sneakers and some old sweatpants. There are some bandages across where his chest should be as well as a smaller one at about forehead level. He's got a couple other injuries but they're nothing he's too worried about and can't be seen anyway. He's got an old t-shirt in hand too, not in much of a hurry to put it back on. He steps aside as the winged woman leaves, careful to avoid bumping into her or her feathery wings. When he sees Jax ahead, Jack jumps a bit. "Oh uh...hi," he greets, eyes scanning over the older mutant and an invisible blush crossing his equally unseen face. Jax lifts his water glass, waggling it in a cheerful wave hello. If he could see Jack's blush there'd probably be an echoing one on his own face, reflexively, but given that he cannot see the invisible face he has zero reaction to it. Just the same bright smile he has by default for pretty much everyone, no awkwardness given that mostly every week finds him here. "Who'd you take on down there?" He offers half his orange out on the palm of one still kind-of-overheated hand. Slinging his shirt over his shoulder, Jack winces and draws in a breath through his teeth. "That guy that was making thorns on his arms and hands," Jack replies, stretching his neck carefully. "Just finished pulling the last ones out," he adds, a slight hand-shaped depression appearing on one of the bandages on his chest. "Thanks," he chimes, carefully taking the orange. "Who were you up against?" he's curious. There's a pause as he looks at some of Jax's burns. "Are those going to be okay?" he asks, gestuing towards one of the burns with the orange piece. "Who won?" Jax pops another orange slice into his mouth, chuckling at the gesturing. "J.C. -- oh, gosh, honey-honey, yeah, I'll be golden, this ain't nothin'." His single eye flicks over Jack, briefly, lingering on the depression in the bandage. "S'it been helpful?" "I got a win this time," Jack admits sheepishly. "I'll have a hell of a headache but I got a lucky shot in," he says with a chuckle. He pops the piece of orange he was given into his mouth, humming a little in reply to Jax's answer. "The fighting? I guess it has. I mean I'm getting a little better at using my telekinesis quicker. And I feel like I'm more ready to actually defend myself if the whole spooky act or sneaking isn't an option." Jax's head bobs in a small nod, his smile returning, bright and warm. "Good. Good. S'good. Well, not the headache part. Think there's prob'ly some ibuprofen loitering around though I really jus' -- stock up on the food, help recharge that way." He polishes off the rest of his orange, reaching into a nearby bag of them to snag a second and start peeling it as well. "Mmm." This is more thoughtful. "... d'you like it?" "Yeah, I just had some on the way here. Just happens when I use my telekinesis a lot," Jack lets out a breath. He carefully pulls his t-shirt on, a faint groan of discomfort coming from him as he does. There are some holes in it but its still wearable. "I like your way of helping us all recharge," he replies cheerfully. He pauses a moment at the question and his shoulders slump. "Fighting? Not really," a single shouldered shrug. "I'd rather avoid fighting if I can. But...I think its better to learn here and be prepared rather than not know if I run into any trouble out in the world," he explains. "Hell, I half thought something was going to happen earlier today." "Yeah, but -- the school has self-defense classes. You don't really need to come /here/ if you don't got a taste for --" Jax flutters fingers at the bandages. His nose crinkles up with a quick crooked quirk of grin. "Oh, me, well, m'part hummingbird --" this statement comes /with/ a hummingbird, bright and brilliantly jewel-toned in vivid blue-green, circling the room once and vanishing. "I think the solution for everything's add sugar to it." His smile fades as he tucks the second orange peel in beside the first, peels the orange in half and offers half of it out once more. "Somethin'? Somethin' like what, y'run into trouble?" "I know, but I figured the more to learn the better. Just in case," Jack replies. He chuckles as he watches the hummingbird, an unseen smile crossing his face. "You really do some awesome stuff with your powers," he chimes. "Sugar isn't a bad solution. Tastes good and gives a nice little rush," he adds with a little amusement. The invisible teen takes the offered slice with a murmured thanks. "Yeah. Shane and I ran into this girl not too far from here. She spouted some anti-mutant crap and got shove-happy," he sounds much less happy about this. "Blowin' smoke at us both too...literally. Until she ran off, I was worried a fight might break out." "Mmm." Jax's tone is noncommital, though his lips press together, thinning slightly at Jack's reply. "I jus' like t'brighten things up, sometimes." His brows furrow inward at the mention of the earlier encounter. He lifts a hand, rubbing at the side of his head, fingers shifting up beneath the strap of his eyepatch to rub at his temple. "Shane kinda attracts fights." There's a small note of /fret/ in his tone. "Folks think cuz he's small he's an easy target for hatin' on. -- It didn't turn into a fight, though?" "I prefer things bright too," Jack replies. He eats his orange slice as Jax replies. The fret gets a little nod. "Yeah, I kind of thought she was thinking that since the girl shoved him rather than try pushing me. No fight though, thankfully. She saw his teeth and how fast he is and walked away." "Good." Jax's fret eases back away at this information. "The pups can sure take care'a themselves but --" He huffs out a quick breath, shakes his head again. "... don't stop me wishin' that none'a y'all never /had/ to, y'know?" His hand lifts, scuffing briefly through his brightly coloured hair. "People jus' get so -- /nnngh/." His fingers squeeze in at his orange, crushing the slices to squoosh juice in a messy stream down his forearm. Now he /does/ blush, cheeks flushing darker. His head dips so that he can lick it clean. "Mngh. Just. Alla this. Fight club an' self-defense classes an' alla it. I'll be glad the day it's just -- not. So. Needed." "I get it," Jack replies. He lets out a little sigh at the frustrated noise. "Yeah. People can be assholes," he says. He's a little surprised by the orange crushing though, Jack jumping a little. Of course when Jax starts licking his arm clean, Jack blushes again and averts his gaze slightly. "I'm hoping that day happens sometime too. Hopefully sooner rather than later." "I'm prayin'." Jax pops the rest of his orange into his mouth, licking the juice off his hand as well before he slides down off the countertop. "Well, prayin' an' workin', both. Figure God might work a little faster if I help him along." He tips his chin up to Jack, rolling his shoulders in a slow stretch. "Think I'm gonna head back down. Flicker's fights is always worth watchin'." "Never been big on the praying thing myself but if there's a way to help, I'd like to," Jack replies. He stretches as well and offers an unseen smile. "I think I'll come watch too." "Don't think the world's ever gonna run out of ways t'help change it," Jax answers with a small laugh, plucking his water glass off the counter and heading -- a little stiffly -- back for the basement.